She wanted to ask but the testosterone level climbed higher as both men sat immovably, the silence so thick she could hear her heart pounding in her ears, the food completely forgotten. Morana never removed her eyes from the two men, trying to weasel out any hint from any movement but nothing.
The tension just notched.
Until Amara spoke, in that soft voice of hers. "Dante."
Morana looked at her and saw her shake her head in warning once. So, they both knew.
Dante abruptly got up from the table and headed towards the elevator, before Amara pushed her chair out as well, briefly touching Tristan Caine on the shoulder. "He's not wrong, Tristan."
Tristan Caine looked up at the woman, a brief moment of understanding passing between them. "Neither am I."
Amara smiled sadly at him before turning to her, her eyes warming. "Tristan has my number. Call me if you need anything, Morana."
Morana smiled tentatively at her, a little unsure and Amara moved away, walking out to a waiting Dante by the elevator.
And Morana watched, completely confounded.
What the hell was going on?
It was dark outside, the sun long-settled below the horizon. The city lights twinkled in the distance and Morana took a deep breath, and looked down at her half-empty plate. She slowly started eating again, without glancing up at the man she was alone with now.
The man who was looking at her. Finally.
She could feel his stare over every inch of her body in his line of vision. She could feel the caress of his eyes over her exposed skin and feel the heat rising in her body and pooling in her core, just from his eyes. She did not like it. Unable to pretend it wasn't grating over every nerve in her body, Morana dropped the fork and looked up, only to find those fierce, magnificent blue eyes pinning her to her chair.
She didn't like this. She didn't like it at all. She needed to push her chair back and get to the guest room. She needed to lock the door and get away from this man.
Because he scared her. She didn't know anything about him. Nothing. Not his past, not his present, not his future. She didn't know any reason for anything he did and that made him the unknown. The unpredictable.
And it scared her.
Because she had no idea if he would kill her or protect her in his next breath.
There were too many things going around them, between them. He'd hit her father. He'd not gone to Tenebrae when he was summoned. He was harboring her in his home when, as Dante said, it was very, very dangerous. But he was also the man who'd repeatedly told her he would kill her.
She blinked, trying to clear her head but his eyes refused to move from hers, his jaw tight, the scruff littering the line of his jaw longer than it had been in the morning.
Heartbeats and breaths quickening, the look in his eyes so predatory she felt like a meal on the table that he was going to devour any moment.
Fuck. This was supposed to be done. That was what the restaurant had been about. He should've been just done, not looking at her with that hateful hunger. Naked hunger unleashed on her in a way she'd never seen before. In a way
that made her hungry. In a way that made the hunger gnaw at her skin.
She needed to close him up. Shut the shutters over those eyes and contain that look.
She needed to do something fast.
Suddenly remembering what Amara had been telling her earlier, Morana broke the silence.
"When did the Alliance end?"
And it worked. His eyes flared momentarily, with something that was such an intense mix of hatred and pain she couldn't differentiate between them.
And then his eyes blanked. Completely. Just blue orbs looking at her with quiet consideration. No emotion.
She wasn't sure she liked it any better.
"Twenty years ago," he spoke quietly, watching her.